


The Five Stages of Grief

by itsharbour



Series: Stydia One-Shots [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Everything Hurts, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Lydia-centric, Major character death - Freeform, Sick Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-12 09:05:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2103723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsharbour/pseuds/itsharbour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to my earlier fic: <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1932882">Limited Options</a><a></a></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Five Stages of Grief

**1\. Denial**

She ignores the signs. If he didn’t tell her to own her face, she wouldn’t acknowledge them. She’d keep her eyes closed for as long as she could. In her mind, he was fine. She could keep going to school and living her life. They had more time.

Then it started getting bad. She blinked once and suddenly he looked so thin and fragile. He couldn’t control his arms and legs at all. They would often twitch and flail in random directions. They couldn't sleep together in the same bed anymore because he was afraid of hurting her. She could see him trying to stay in control. His face would go red with concentration. She cut him off by assuring him that he could never hurt her. He kept telling her, as best as he could through the stuttering and facial ticks, that it would have to be soon. She hoped that soon would never come.

**2\. Anger**

Soon came and she was livid. The screamed at the top of her lungs at him. Cried in his arms even though he couldn’t keep still anymore. What he was asking was impossible and she didn't want to do it anymore. She wouldn't have any part of it.

She was angry at him, but not really. She was angry that he couldn’t talk to her anymore because his speech was slurred to the point where it was unrecognizable and she found herself missing his voice. She was angry because he couldn’t walk or hold things without her help.

Most of all, she hated herself for having fallen in love with him. Because she had finally found someone who loved her for who she is and accepted every part of her. The hate was so strong and she could not take it anymore. Because every time she saw him, she could see how miserable he was. His brown eyes begged her and she could hear his voice again in her head, softly: _please?_

**3\. Bargaining**

She put school on hold to be with him because he needed attention full time and there was no way that she would trust anyone else.  That night, he took too many of his pills when she wasn't looking. She didn't talk to him for a week.

As a last resort, she asked Scott to come over and spend some time with him, thinking that it would cheer him up (but also hoping he could do something about it). They had the first good day in a very long time, but when it was time to leave, Scott pulled her aside and told her that the bite does not cure diseases like this. She and Scott didn't speak for a long time after that.

That night he held her hand for the first time in days and looked at her. She nodded, knowing that she’s all out of bargaining chips now.

**4\. Depression**

There’s a reason why they say black is the color of depression. It’s the lack of light. Void.

That’s what she is after he dies.

She had taken the morphine that he had been prescribed and simply filled the syringe with a bit too much. His eyes didn’t leave hers the entire time. Their hands had been clasped together in one last minute embrace.

His muscles finally stopped moving in their erratic manner. His chest fell for the last time and his heart beat weakly until didn't. Everything was still for the first time in years. She closed his eyes and he looked asleep in her arms. The way he had when they had first moved in together not so long ago.

 _He’s just sleeping_ , she told herself. There was a smile on his face.

**5\. Acceptance.**

"Lydia Stilinski" is said enthusiastically by the man on the stage. A spotlight shines down on her as she gets out of her seat and elegantly makes her way towards the stage. Her dress shines in the light and shimmers as she moves.

The man on the stage gives her a box and moves away so that she can stand in front of the microphone.

“Thank you.” She says curtly. She is not smiling as widely as the other people on the stage holding boxes nor is she crying. “I would talk about my thesis and my research, but seeing as I’m up here right now, I can assume you’re all familiar with it.” She put her shoulders back and looked out to the audience. “As a teenager, I thought I had to be stupid to be popular. I could never really show how smart I was if I wanted to be the prettiest girl who dated the hottest jock. When I was sixteen, my best friend asked me to take a boy to a dance as a favor. A boy who had loved me since he was eight and who I ignored for the majority of my life because he was a complete and total dork.” The audience laughed. She gave them a small smile. “I was set on not having a good time and he wanted to dance. Out of spite, I kept telling him no. He got so fed up with me that he told me that he was sure that he was the only one who knew how smart I really was, and that he wouldn’t be surprised if I won the Nobel Prize in Mathematics. I told him there was no such thing and that I would be winning the Fields Medal.” There was a bigger laugh now and some light applause. She waited until the silence returned. “I find that it’s true when they say that the good die young, because he died when he was twenty-one. Not too long after I stopped telling myself that I didn’t love him and realized that I did.” She let out a small laugh. “This boy was the kindest, strangest, and most important person in my life. My true love.” She looked down at her hand and twisted the small sapphire ring around her finger. “For a long time after he passed, I thought the world wasn’t fair, that everything was out of balance. But that’s not true is it?” Her eyes drifted back up, but were blinded by the lights. A light breeze passed in front of her, and she could swear that it smelled like grass, old leather, and fabric softener. Like him. “So thank you, Stiles Stilinski. For showing me that everything is balanced. I just had to look hard enough to see it.”


End file.
